During the summer of 2001, Tom and I had dined with two
women friends who lived some 3 miles south of us. When we got home, we were
greeted by the sight of Roscoe sitting on his haunches at the gate to the
garage with a tiny kitten sitting happily between his front paws and looking up
at us. In our absence, Roscoe and found and adopted a kitten!And who were we to say that he shouldn’t. There was never
any question of not keeping her.Yes, I know that you the careful viewer will recognize that shot
above from ROSCOE Chapter 3, but I thought it worth posting again here. I would
love to have secret footage taken of how the kitten got into the yard and how
she and Roscoe managed to bond so quickly. I think she managed by not being
afraid and by being submissive: she probably did not try to run away and set
off the chase instinct in Roscoe. It is just possible that she was too dumb to
run, but in any case it worked. And Roscoe seemed to adore having a little
buddy all his own.

Initially she lived in the yard with Roscoe. He was notably
protective of her, and his vehement reactions to any passing dog outside the
fence went up several notches. You’re not going to get my Kitty!

Here she is on the back steps. She quickly figured out that
it was through that door that food would come.

And sitting on the old school desk (a leftover from my
sister’s directing a school play in the 1960s) she could keep close watch on
comings and goings through that door.We knew that eventually she would have to be
moved to the safety of the front porch for the same reason that the older cats
had been. Once she started wandering across the county road, she would be in
too much danger.

Gradually
we began to take her to the porch for some supervised time with Catalina and
Sibling, in hope that they would become used to her. As expected, Catalina
wanted to beat her up, and Sibling wanted to run from her. Again, Kitty Witty’s
submissive nature and lack of fear stood her in good stead. Fairly soon she and
Catalina became, if not friends, at least accepting of each other.

But Sibling remained distant. She never truly got over her
initial suspicion of the strange new beast. I'm certain that here she is looking back at where Kitty Witty is eating.

Catalina was developing into a true beauty. She must have
realized it, because she began to object less to having here picture taken. Her
fur was thick and soft, and she loved to be petted. Her color patterns were
wonderfully symmetrical.

And she loved shoes. Particularly Tom’s shoes. As soon as he
went to the porch she would run for his feet. She particularly liked it when
Tom would sit on the old bench that had been built by his father. She would
writhe about, rubbing her face against the shoes. Shameless hussy!

Sibling much preferred to remain atop something: the bench,
the baker’s rack, anything from which she could jump and run if anybody made a
sudden move.

She was a pretty cat too, but she surely did lack anything
resembling symmetry as far as color was concerned!

Even after moving to the front porch, Kitty Witty was still
allowed out in the yard when Jonathan and Tom and Roscoe could supervise. She
did enjoy following us down to the goat pasture for feedings. Here she is peeking through the gate. Can I come in too? Actually, sometimes she did. The goats were more nervous about her than she was about them.

And if she didn't come in, she'd just rub up against the fence to show her pleasure at being a part of the event.

But most of her time was spent on the front porch. She grew
up, as cats are wont to do, and I always had the sense that Roscoe didn’t
approve of her getting so big. She was a pretty cat too, in her own way.

In the late spring of 2004 she began showing signs of
lethargy. Okay, so you’re a lazy old cat! But during the summer she began to
lose weight, and she showed little interest in eating. Finally I decided that
veterinary intervention was necessary, and I took her to the clinic in
Greensboro. The vet thought it best to keep her for a few days, which I agreed
to. Kitty Witty didn’t argue. I don’t think she felt like arguing.A couple of days later I ran into Greensboro for a bit of
grocery shopping, and I stopped by to get an update. The vet saw me and said,
“I was just going to call you. Kitty Witty died a few minutes ago when I was
examining her.”I had to tell Tom, of course, who was distressed. But I
didn’t tell Roscoe or in any way try to indicate to him that something bad had
happened. I think at first he realized that she was not there for a while, and
then he sort of forgot to remember that she was not there. I followed the same
procedure a little over 3 years later when Tom died.